


The Case of the Winter Murder (of a Christmas Tree)

by prince-of-heaven-and-hell (LadyofWinterhell)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Good Omens Secret Santa, Good Omens Secret Santa 2019, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Secret Santa, Who Dunnit, good cop idiot cop, summation gathering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyofWinterhell/pseuds/prince-of-heaven-and-hell
Summary: Aziraphale & Crowely are having a Christmas party at the bookshop, when suddenly, there's a murder! Their poor Christmas tree is found in pieces. The culprit has to be someone in the shop, but can Detective Aziraphale figure out who dunnit?
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 5





	The Case of the Winter Murder (of a Christmas Tree)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays to @callmehabie! Sorry I was late, but I hope you like it!

‘Twas the night before Christmas,

And all through the bookshop,

Not a creature was stirring,

Not even the enchanted mop,

Which Crowely had insisted

Was an absolute must

Because “it’s just like Sleeping Beauty,”

“And also I hate to dust.”

However, this would all soon change

When the moon could be seen,

And friends would arrive

For a Christmas gathering....

**Crowely** slunk towards the door in the manner that only demons can, and a sensible person would be confident in the assessment that he was a man being forced to do something downright miserable and inconvenient. A sensible person would be wrong. You’d have to be a certain angelic principality to really understand what was going on. If Crowely didn’t want to do something, he simply didn’t do it. There was no slinking or slunking or even slonking about it. You’d ask him “hey be a darling and get this done” and then the moment you turned away he’d be gone. The fact that the demon was slinking at all was a very, very good sign.

“When are they going to be here?” Crowley called out, as if he hadn’t been the one to set the time and send the invites.

“Soon enough, my dear boy,” Aziraphale responded, a gentle smile on his lips.

Their good friends, family really, were going to arrive shortly, and as much as the angel was looking forward to seeing them, he was determined to enjoy their last few personal moments together before the night got rowdy.

“Right, er, before they get here,” Crowley turned away from the door and towards the angel. “Got something for ya.”

Aziraphale’s smile grew, and then it grew some more as he noticed Crowley’s flushed cheeks.

“I thought we were doing presents tomorrow, dear?”

“Er, yeah, well. This is extra.”

Aziraphale followed Crowely’s gaze, not yet hidden by those sunglasses he’d practically glued to his face, and saw a lovely red box on the table beside them. Surely, it hadn’t been there moments before, but that was of no real concern. As it is, things do tend to move as they please. At least the things in a certain bookshop in England.

With the giddiness of a child, Aziraphale tugged on the just slightly crooked satin ribbon and the box folded out.

“Just like in the movies,” Crowely said.

“What do we have here?” Aziraphale was too excited to respond.

Wrapped in a delicate beige tissue paper was something rather large, soft, and irregularly shaped. Just careful enough to keep the paper intact--remember, Aziraphale is your grandmother and will make you reuse wrapping materials--the angel revealed his present. It was nothing fancy nor expensive, and most certainly hand-made, but it was wonderful. There, in his hands, was a large, black and red, plush snake that resembeled his demon’s reptilian form.

“Oh dear, did you make this?”

“Of course not,” Crowely rolled his eyes, but his lie was apparent.

“It looks just like you!” Aziraphale shouted with glee.

“It’s just a thing I found okay? Thought it could, you know, keep you company when I’m not around. If no one annoys you, you get obnoxiously pleasant.”

“Of course, you willy snake. Can’t have that happen, can we?”

Crowely wondered if Aziraphale’s eyes were made by the same department he used to work in, because they appeared to be full of twinkling stars. He was so distracted with how they shone that he didn’t register the angel’s approach, and was stunned when soft lips placed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll go put him upstairs, I have to grab some glasses anyway,” Aziraphale stated cheerfully, spinning around.

“Did ya get the champagne for tonight?” Crowely pursued that diversion to their intimate moment.

“No, no alcohol this month. Remember Anathema’s reading? She said to avoid it for the holidays. I’ve turned all the bottles to juice though!” Aziraphale called over his shoulder.

“Leave it to a witch to ruin our fun,” Crowely muttered to himself, in place of a good-quality remark.

Before he could think of something better to say, there came a knock from the door. He turned his head to look, but his angel was seven steps ahead of him. Literally. At the same moment that Crowely’s brain was registering the faces of Anathema and Newt, the thunder of shoes against stairs hit his ear and a blur of angel went by him. Of course, Aziraphale’s speed was unnecessary. Even if he had started moving the moment he’d heard the door, Crowely’s inability to walk in an even remotely correct manner would’ve kept him from beating the angel at a greeting.

“Hello darling! Come in, come in!” Aziraphale called out up ahead.

As Crowely sauntered forward, not quite able to keep an uninterested expression on his face, he noticed the box that Newt was carrying.

“I’ll be taking that,” Crowley plucked the box from Newt’s hands.

It didn’t take a demon to recognize the box as a cake box, but it did take a demon (a specific demon named Crowely) to understand that if Aziraphale was handed the cake, it wouldn’t last very long. If it was entirely up to the demon, he would’ve let his angel have the cake, but they were throwing a party, after all. And the little pout he knew would form on Aziraphale’s face was just too tempting to resist.

“Awful to see you, really,” he called out to his friends as he turned.

“We love you too!” Anathema shouted.

It was a good thing for Crowely that he was facing away from everyone, sauntering up to the kitchen like a man who’d never in 6,000 years been taught how to keep his hips moving in a straight line, for the grin he had on his face was too wide to hide.

Shortly after, the rest arrived. Warlock came on his own, dressed entirely in black, which made Crowely tear up (and then threaten to stab anyone if they ever spoke of it). And the Them came all together. Shadwell and Madame Tracy had to be absent for the night, but Shadwell made sure to send a card with various warnings of ways the occult forces could “get” them during the holiday season.

With everyone there, it was time for the party to begin.


End file.
